Quick Hands and Cold Blood
by theirhappystory
Summary: Oliver Queen is an American member of the Russian Brotherhood known as the Bratva. Driven to a life crime by personal tragedy, he will do everything he can to prove himself and make his way to the top. Felicity Smoak is a certified genius and hacker extraordinaire, attending classes at MIT by day and serving the darkest points of the internet by night. She just wants to graduate.


**Author's Note: **An unfinished story I found when going through my drive the other day. Enjoy!

**Oliver**

"_Prove to me that you can handle an assignment of this magnitude, and we will discuss your status within the brotherhood, Boevick Queen."_

That's what Oliver keeps in mind as he enters the seedy underground club in downtown Cambridge, Massachusetts, some three-thousand miles away from where he wants to be. But this is a test, one he cannot, _will_ _not_ fail.

His assignment, although heavy in importance, was not supposed to give him this much trouble. They had located the Tambovskaya Gang's port on the East Coast, a long time rival of the Solntsevskaya Bratva. It was Oliver's job to intercept their latest shipment. The only problem was when he and his men had showed up, the Tambov were ready and waiting for them. Three brothers had been lost as a result of the confrontation and the remainder of his brigade was forced to retreat without the shipment. Pissed the fuck off is an understatement for what Oliver felt that night, and the following nights since.

That was five days ago. Since then, he has been scouring every Bratva resource possible to find someone who can hack Tambov's system to determine the arrival of the next shipment. The problem is, someone on the inside had disclosed their plans to their rivals, leaving Oliver unsure of who he can and cannot trust. If he wants to prove himself ready to become a Captain despite his American upbringing and young age of twenty-seven, he's going to have to do this himself.

With a resigned sigh, he strides down the dark, blacklight-adorned hallway and descends the stairs into a cloud of smoke. The theatrics of it all brings a smirk to his otherwise emotionless face.

_Hackers_.

M.I.T. is known for its host of computer hackers in the world of organized crime. All these college kids looking to make a quick buck, most of them too lost in their 1's and 0's to realize when to step away from a deal. They think they're infallible, the best of the best, until the cops come knocking at their door. That is if they're one of the lucky ones to get the police and not the brotherhood. The Bratva does not believe in loose ends.

Surveying the club, Oliver takes in the contrasting colors of black and neon throughout the room. Sweaty co-eds are gyrating on the dance floor to some kind of electronic dance music that floods the room. By the bar a girl with bright pink hair squeals as a scrawny guy with stringy black hair licks alcohol off her body. But that's not what holds his attention. Instead, Oliver zeroes in on the row of booths in the far back, containing a number of kids typing away on various technological interfaces.

He scans each booth, evaluating its occupants. There are some with a handful of people that he immediately rules out. A couple making out in between bouts of typing and laughter. Some kid so stoned he looks like he's about to slide under the table. Two guys in what appears to be some sort of coding face off. And in the very back corner a girl with ink black hair sips a glass of wine, the glow from her computer screen illuminating her soft features.

That's the one. That's his girl.

Just to be sure, Oliver observes her for a few minutes more. Every once in awhile someone will come up to her with their tablet or computer and she quickly devotes her attention to whatever they are saying. She works quickly and diligently each time, typing away on her visitor's device before sending them away with a smile. But no one stays just to chat.

After the fourth or so person, Oliver decides it's time to move in. He approaches her booth in a relaxed manner, flirtatious smile slipping into place. He knows the affect his good looks and perfected body have on women, and he is not above using it for his gain. However, as he gets closer to the girl's table her brow furrows in concentration, whatever is on her screen keeps her from noticing his approach.

Oliver comes to a stop not a foot from where she sits, tilting his head to the side as he waits for her to detect his presence. He takes this time to study her up close. There are deep violet streaks in her hair that were undetectable from far away, matching the color painted on her full lips. Her eyes are a startling grey blue, contrasting with the dark colors she's chosen to outfit herself in. They reflect the light of the computer screen in a way that makes them appear to be almost glowing. She's pretty, he realized with a start. Not that hackers can't be physically attractive, it's just a far cry from his usual type.

Moving away from that line of thought, Oliver clears his throat to get the girl's attention. She jumps in her seat and looks up at him with wide eyes, surprise evident in her gaze. He expects her to say something, apologize for not noticing him or anything really, but she remains silent so he starts off with a simple greeting.

"Hi."

"Are you lost?"

That was definitely not the response Oliver was expecting. It must show on his face because the girl ducks her head as she continues on.

"I'm sorry that was rude. I just meant that you are far too pretty to be here. Not that the people here aren't attractive or that we have some kind of requirement for physical appearance! We just don't see a lot of people like you around here. I'm going to stop talking. Right now."

She reaches for her glass, taking a long sip of wine, eyes closed as it flows down her throat. When she meets his gaze again, she is decidedly less flustered. That must be something she does a lot.

"What can I do for ya?"

"I'm searching for someone who can… _look into_ a highly protected mainframe for details on a scheduled delivery."

"Did UPS lose your package or something?"

He lifts an eyebrow in amusement, pleasantly surprised by her wit.

"Or something. May I?"

Oliver gestures to the space across from her in the booth to which the girl nods in consent. He lowers himself into the booth and leans back in the cushioned seat, the picture of ease.

"So this mainframe, how protected are we talking here?"

"Uhm… very?"

Now it's her turn to raise an eyebrow at him.

"Very?"

"Yes."

"Right. Okay."

She clicks around on her laptop a few times, then begins to type something in, mouthing the word "very" with an exaggerated widening of her eyes. Without looking up, she continues with her questioning.

"Does this mainframe have a name?"

"No."

"No, it doesn't have a name? Or No, you don't want to disclose that information? Because unless you have an IP address, there's no way I'm going to be able to hack it. And good luck finding someone here who will."

Digging into his pocket, Oliver pulls out a folded up slip of paper and slides it to her across the table. She takes it, glances at the string of numbers and letters written down, and nods her head as she returns to typing on her computer.

"Fair warning, this sort of thing doesn't come cheap."

"Money isn't an issue, I can assure you of that. Can you do it?"

The raven haired girl scoffs at him, seemingly offended by his question.

"You must be new around here. Yes, I can do it. I have a paper due Thursday for my Advanced Cybersecurity class so give me until Friday?"

Right. She's still in school.

"Okay."

Digging through a large grey backpack beside her, the girl pulls out a surprisingly bright yellow sheet of paper and a red pen. She scribbles furiously on the scrap of paper before offering it to him across the table. Oliver accepts the note, briefly glancing at what she wrote.

_Bean Scene. 4pm. F_

"Meet me there on Friday. I'll have the information ready for you on both a USB drive and in a paper copy. Bring cash. A lot of it."

"What does the F stand for?"

Oliver realizes then as he asks the question that he never even got this girl's name, and she didn't ask for his either. That would be fine with him under any other circumstances, the less personal information exchanged the better. However, he can't help the curiosity inside him that itches to put a name to the face.

"Felicity."

_Felicity_.

It suits her. He can't exactly put a finger on why, but it does.

"Well, Felicity, I look forward to doing business with you."

He extends a hand to her, one that she takes without hesitation. His large, calloused hand encompasses her much smaller one as they shake, and Oliver is struck by how petite she is. Her presence is so large it wasn't until just now that he noticed.

"And I with you Mister…"

"Oliver. Just Oliver."

Usually he gives a fake name for outside transactions, a precaution that has saved other members of the Bratva from a world of trouble. But he doesn't feel the need to do so with Felicity.

"Okay, 'Just Oliver'. See you Friday."

She smiles at him as he withdraws his hand from hers and slides out of the booth. It's a soft, genuine expression that Oliver finds himself mirroring back at her before he turns to leave. Now that he has accomplished what he came here to do, it's time to disappear back into the night.

But not without taking one last glance over his shoulder.

….

**Felicity**

"I still don't know why you can't let me in on this. It's not like we've never tag teamed before."

Felicity rolls her eyes as she shrugs her backpack onto her shoulders, rising from the bench she and her boyfriend have been occupying on the quad for the past hour.

"I told you, Coop, this time is different. It's not some kid wanting his C-minus in freshman English changed to a B-plus."

Cooper stands with her, hands taking hold of her waist as he tugs her body closer to his, and gives her that flirtatious smile he knows weakens her defenses.

"Maybe if you told me what it _is_ instead of what it's _not_, I would understand better."

Laughing at his persistence, Felicity loops her arms around his neck as she replies.

"Not gonna happen. Hacker-client confidentiality. But I _will _let you walk me into town."

She presses a quick kiss to his mouth, one that Cooper immediately attempts to turn into more. She breaks the kiss before they get carried away and tugs on his hand as she begins making her way across campus into town. Cooper is extremely physical with her, which isn't necessarily a bad thing. She likes the thrill, the rush she gets from being with him. But right now is not the time for an impromptu makeout session. Especially when she's already going to be late meeting Oliver.

Oliver. He's an enigma to Felicity; a dark, broody, beautiful enigma. When he approached her the other night in _Black Hat _she had been caught off guard to say the least. At somewhere around six feet tall at least and with muscles that were visible even beneath the dark grey material of his long sleeve henley, he was a far cry from her usual clients. Typically she dealt with fellow college students whose grades or medical records needed adjustment or fellow hackers who couldn't figure out a certain script. Whatever the case, they were not like Oliver. No one she had ever met was quite like Oliver. And that made her curious.

So did the fact that all the shipping information she found from the IP address he had given her was in Russian. That's right, _Russian_.

They make it to the window-lined cafe off Main Street at seven after four, Felicity pulling on Cooper's arm to prevent him from walking in with her. He looks down at her questioningly.

"I think it's better I go in alone. I don't want him to think I disclosed any information to you. Something tells me he would not be a very happy camper."

"You're cute when you're paranoid."

One of his hands comes up to cup her cheek, tilting her face up as he slants his mouth against hers. His other hand wraps around her waist in a possessive hold as the kiss deepens. Felicity allows herself to get lost in it for just a moment, arms wrapping tightly around his neck to pull herself closer. The kiss goes on until they break apart for air, her cheeks slightly flushed as she takes a step away from Cooper.

"As much as I love kissing you, I really have to go. We can finish this later."

With a final peck goodbye, Felicity scurries into the cafe and orders a medium black coffee. She scans the room as she waits for her order at the counter, spotting Oliver in a far back corner wearing a nondescript baseball cap. He's staring at the cup between his hands with a stony expression. The saying 'if looks could kill' comes to mind. Poor little coffee cup.

As if he can feel her gaze, Oliver shifts his attention to where she stands across the cafe. His face softens upon meeting her eyes, and Felicity gives him a small wave in greeting. She swears he almost cracks a smile at that. Almost.

"Order for Felicity!"

With a quick 'thank you' to the barista, she grabs her drink off the counter and makes her way over to the table Oliver has occupied, giving a quick skip as she goes. She comes to a stop behind the empty chair across from him, suddenly nervous.

"Mind if I sit?"

Felicity gestures to the chair, the strap of her messenger bag in one hand and coffee in the other. Her nerves must be obvious because Oliver quirks an eyebrow at her in amusement before nodding his assent.

"I don't bite, Felicity."

"Well that's a shame."

Eyes wide, Felicity can feel the blood rushing to her cheeks at her faux pas as her mind scrambles to come up with a recovery.

"I... I didn't mean to say that. Out loud. I think I was born with a defective brain-to-mouth filter."

"Was that your boyfriend?"

Oliver breezes past her slip up completely with his query, giving her something akin to mental whiplash.

"What? Oh! Cooper? Yeah, we've been dating for about a year now. Met in our freshman coding seminar and bonded over how elementary the entire course was. I swear we could have taught it ourselves. I promise I didn't tell him anything about this." Felicity waves a hand back and forth between them, in case it wasn't clear what she meant by 'this'.

Oliver for his part goes unphased by her ramble, the stoic expression she's starting to learn as his default remaining intact. Honestly, she's beginning to wonder if that and hinted amusement are the only expressions he's capable of. Aside from the false flirtation he initially approached her with, but she'd seen through that as soon as the initial shock at his physical appearance wore off.

"Good. Did you find the information?"

Right. The job.

Quickly rifling through her backpack, Felicity pulls out a USB drive and blue folder. She places the objects in front of her on the table, but refrains from sliding them into his grasp.

"I hate to be that distrusting business deal person, but I'm going to need to see some cash before handing this over. A girl's gotta eat."

A thick white envelope is tossed on the table in front of her. Felicity untucks the flap and rifles through the crisp bills, trying not to let the incredulity she feels show on her face.

Holy. Frack.

He wasn't kidding when he said money wouldn't be an issue. This is almost three times what she would have asked for.

"I think you'll find that to be more than fair compensation for your work. And your silence."

Felicity jerks her gaze up to Oliver's at that. There's a solemn implication in his steely blue eyes. Almost as if he's threatening her...

She takes a moment to look over his person again, to reevaluate who exactly she's dealing with. His entire frame is tense despite the casual position he's taken leaning on the table. Every so often his eyes flicker behind her and scan the room. A small movement low in her line of sight grabs Felicity's attention, and she watches in calculated curiosity as Oliver's calloused thumb and forefinger slowly rub together. He's on alert, she realizes with a start. But for what? Or who?

"Felicity, the information please."

Scooting the folder and USB across the table, Felicity decides that it's really none of her business what sort of trouble Oliver may or may not be in. Just something else to add to the mystery that this man is quickly becoming.

"I should probably mention that there is a little bit of an issue with what I found. It's all in Russian."

Instead of discontent like she expected, Oliver simply flicks the folder open and begins to skim over the information in the page.

"That won't be a problem."

"You can read Russian?"

"Mhmmm..."

Of course he can. The beautiful rich ones never take Spanish in grade school like everyone else their age in the continental U.S.

"This looks great, Felicity. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

There's a pregnant pause in the conversation then. They both know that their business is done here, but Felicity can't help wanting to stay. She feels… safe, content in Oliver's presence even though she probably shouldn't.

But then her phone buzzes, signaling a message from Cooper.

"That's Coop. I have to go. Should I be expecting to see you around again or…?"

"No. If all goes well, I won't be in Cambridge for much longer."

She tries to ignore the small current of disappointment that ripples through her.

"Oh... Well then, it was a pleasure doing business with you, Oliver."

She offers a hand to him as she stands to shake his in parting. He rises with her and accepts it, warmth radiating from his touch.

"It was."

Felicity offers him a warm smile before she grabs her coffee off the table and heads toward the door, leaving Oliver and all his mystery to become a thing of the past.

...

**Oliver**

Contrary to what he told Felicity, Oliver finds himself back in Cambridge less than a month after their initial run in at _Black Hat_. It's not of his own free will, but that of Captain Alexei Leonov, current Brigadier of the brotherhood's Starling City operation. After successfully intercepting the following Tombov shipment, thanks to Felicity's aide, Oliver caught the eye of those who held significant weight with the Pakhan and the rest of the Bratva. Alexei was sending him to co-head the foundation of a brigade on the East Coast in reaction to the increasing Tambovskaya presence; his interruption of their past shipment only causing the rival gang to become more determined to extend their reach in the U.S. While this was a positive development in working towards the title of Captain, Oliver's co-leader was a less than favorable companion.

"Since Alexei seems to believe that someone who majored in dropping out a college is a good fit for a position of power in this brotherhood, let me make it abundantly clear that I do not agree."

"There are a lot of things you don't agree with, Isabel."

Isabel Rochev grew up in the Bratva's Russian compound, traded to Pakhan Knyazev to repay a debt her father could not afford. She grew up in the ways of the brotherhood, but her lack of birthright was no secret. She was given all the responsibilities and expectations of an heir without any of the benefits, and it made her cold. Everything she did was calculated and carried out without emotion, aside from anger.

"Explain to me how visiting a club is going to get us the blueprints off of that computer, _postoronniy_."

_Outsider_.

Oliver's jaw clenches tightly at the insult. He endured much ridicule due to his American origin when first entering the brotherhood two years ago. It was rare that anyone of descent other than Russian was initiated into the Bratva, and many viewed those who were as a poison to the brotherhood. Because of this, Oliver worked nearly ten times as hard to prove himself and earn the respect of his brothers. To hurl such an insult at him is a low blow, especially coming from Isabel. In the interest of remaining civil, however, he refrains from biting out a retort and instead lets silence answer her. If Isabel wasn't so incessant about tracking his every move, Oliver would have gladly made this visit on his own.

Scanning the club, Oliver's gaze immediately falls to the booths in the back. He studies the occupants of each one, eyebrows drawing together the further he gets down the line. Frustration and disappointment swirl together in his chest as he reaches the last one to find it empty.

She's not here.

"I am not going to ask again, Oliver. We have a job to do."

This time he doesn't hold himself back.

"And unlike you I'm actually working towards getting it done."

The ice cold glare Isabel gives him could make the sun freeze over, but Oliver does not cower in the brunette's wake. He simply squares his shoulders, fists clenched at his sides, and stares back. If they weren't in public, it's possible one of them would have made a move to attack. It wouldn't be the first time their abhorrence for one another resulted in a loss of blood. It wouldn't be the last.

"Oliver?"

The gentle but strong voice behind him has Oliver abandoning the stare down he and Isabel are engaged in and quickly pivoting on his feet to locate the source.

"Felicity. Hi."

She's standing a foot or so away from him, jet black hair pulled back into a ponytail, revealing an industrial piercing in the cartilage of her right ear that Oliver hadn't noticed previously. Her makeup is not as heavy as it was last time he saw her, either, and he finds that he likes these subtle changes to her appearance. They soften her features, giving Oliver a less inhibited view of her naturally pretty face.

"What are you doing here?"

He opens his mouth to respond, but is cut off as Felicity barrels forward.

"Wow. That came out a little rude. I just wasn't expecting to see you around here again, since you said you didn't plan to be in Cambridge for very long. I didn't mean it as in you're not welcome around here. Because you are. Very welcome, actually."

She cuts herself off after that, teeth worrying her bottom lip lightly. Oliver reaches out to settle a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm happy to see you, too."

A small smile threatens to spread across his face as she grins up at him, until their exchange is intruded upon by the pointed clearing of a throat behind his back. With a reluctant sigh Oliver angles himself to face both Felicity and Isabel as he introduces them.

"Felicity, this is a business associate of mine, Isabel."

He doesn't bother giving Isabel an explanation for who Felicity is. He doesn't owe her one. She'll find out soon enough as is. As an added bonus, the use of Isabel's real name is sure to piss her off.

"Nice to meet you."

The younger girl offers a hand in greeting, one that Isabel simply sneers at before turning her sharp gaze to Oliver. Felicity retracts her hand quickly, shifting awkwardly on her feet at the rejection. A brief flash of anger streaks through Oliver at Isabel's dismissal and Felicity's apparent uncomfortability.

"Don't tell me we came here so you could introduce me to your jailbait, _Oliver_."

She spits his name like a curse and Oliver is about to reply, but Felicity beats him to it.

"Whoa, no! No, that's not happening here. At all. First of all, because I'm twenty. Second of all, like I said, so not happening. If Oliver brought you here I'm more than willing to bet it's because you have a computer problem that requires skills you don't have, but I do. So I would maybe think twice about the attitude if it's something important."

Oliver suppresses the urge to laugh, something he has found himself doing less and less lately. He then quickly steps in before Isabel's claws can truly come out.

"Felicity is an expert with computers. She helped me with the last… technical malfunction we had."

"Genius, actually, and I did. It was a cakewalk, to be honest. Just your everyday, run of the mill hack job."

Isabel's stare can be described as skeptical at best, but Felicity seems to be for the most part unphased by it as she addresses Oliver.

"So what do you have for me this time?"

"How good are you at salvaging information off of damaged laptops?"

He watches as the younger girl's eyes widen with glee, like a kid on Christmas morning who just walked downstairs to find the room piled high with presents.

"Now we're talking. This is like the eight days of Hanukkah all wrapped into one."

Oliver arches an eyebrow at her questioningly.

"I'm Jewish."

He makes a mental adjustment to the Christmas analogy.

"Anyway, let's step into my metaphorical office."

With a quick clap of her hands and a swish of her ponytail, Felicity guides him and Isabel towards the same booth he found her in three weeks ago. The others must know this is _her _space. Oliver slides in without preamble whereas Isabel takes a moment before lowering herself onto the leather cushion with clear disdain. He chooses to ignore his partner in favor of pulling the aforementioned laptop out of a beige messenger bag slung over his shoulder. His focus turns to the girl across the table as her eyebrows disappear into her hairline at the sight of the mutilated piece of technology.

"What did you do to the poor thing?!"

Felicity gingerly runs a hand over the bullet riddled surface of the computer, pointer finger circling a hole here and there.

"I spilled a latte on it."

Isabel scoffs beside him but otherwise remains silent while Felicity stares at him with a deadpan expression.

"Really? Cause these look a lot like bullet holes."

"The coffeeshop I was at wasn't in the best part of town."

"Uh huh… May I?"

Oliver gives an answering nod to her gesture, and Felicity brings the laptop closer for inspection. She picks it up, twisting it about to survey the damage. Seeming to decide upon something, she nods to herself, then places the computer back on the table before fishing her own out of her bag. Oliver observes her at work as she connects the two with various wires and begins to type. Beside him, Isabel becomes impatient and speaks up.

"Can you pull the information we need off that computer or is this a waste of our time?"

"I can do it, but it's going to take some time. Recovering a crashed system doesn't just happen with the flip of a switch. I might have to take the damaged one apart to fix some wiring."

"We have a meeting."

"At one in the morning?"

"It's international."

As entertaining as the sparring match between Felicity and Isabel is, because most people he has encountered in the Bratva wouldn't dare cross the Ice Queen, Oliver decides to step in before things escalate any further.

"Isabel, why don't you go and lead the meeting. I'll stay here and wait for Felicity to get what we need."

"That makes two meetings this week, Oliver. I thought you were serious about this project."

Gritting his teeth, Oliver angles himself toward the brunette at his side and braces for the impending fight.

"I am."

"Well then act like it," growls Isabel. "We have work to do. It's important."

"So is this."

They glare at each other, neither one of them willing to back down from an argument they've had more than once. In his peripheral, Oliver can see Felicity gauging the interaction, shifting slightly in her seat. Luckily, the tense silence passes as Isabel rises from her seat, cold composure slipping back into place.

"Fine. Stay here with your play thing. Anatoly will not be pleased to hear your reasoning for stepping out on a meeting with him."

She leaves the two remaining occupants of the table with those words, no doubt planning the best way possible to ensure the Pakhan's disapproval of his actions. Oliver releases a sigh of frustration and slouches over slightly in his seat. He'll have to do damage control later, but it will be worth it once he gets the blueprints off that laptop. Or once Felicity does.

….

**Felicity**

"Your friend seems nice."

Felicity can't help the sarcastic comment from escaping her as she watches Oliver's supermodel of a business associate exit the club. A wave of something dangerously close to jealousy crashed over her when she saw Oliver whispering with the woman earlier. However, that quickly dissipated as she was introduced and became aware of the obvious animosity between them. Not that it mattered to her what kind of female companionship Oliver had. Not one bit.

"She's a walk in the park. Very amicable."

"I think we were this close to braiding each other's hair."

He huffs a laugh at that, something Felicity considers a small victory. But then she remembers what Isabel said to Oliver before she left and it causes her to worry.

"You know I can do this without you here. We can meet up like last time once I have all the information pulled off the hard drive."

"Is this your way of saying you don't want me here?"

"No!"

Without thinking she reaches out to place her hand atop his where it's resting casually on the table. The contact startles Felicity, even though she's the one who initiated it. Her eyes widen and she quickly withdraws her hand into her lap, a light blush painting her cheeks as she continues.

"No, that's not what I meant at all. I just don't want you to get in trouble with your boss. Isabel made it sound really bad that you're missing this meeting."

Oliver merely waves a hand in dismissal.

"It wouldn't be the first time I've missed a meeting. I have other interests outside of our business."

There's no way she's imagining the intensity in his gaze as he speaks that last part. His bright blue eyes are locked on hers, sending a delicious shiver down her spine. Okay, she needs to get a grip. Bad hormones!

Clearing her throat, Felicity averts her gaze to the laptops sitting in front of her. The initial scan she was running is finished, and she quickly begins to look over the diagnostics.

"Right, well good news is it looks like I can still link up to your hard drive. So hopefully you'll have a good reason for not being in attendance. What am I looking for on here exactly?"

"Blueprints."

"Are you and Isabel building a summer home?"

She can't resist teasing him, just a little more. It has nothing to do with the almost imperceptible, but still present smile he gives her whenever she does. Nope, not at all.

"Cute."

"I do my best."

Silence engulfs them as Felicity begins to pull up information stored on the now deceased computer. It's comfortable, the silence, not an awkward moment of unsurety between strangers like one would expect. She glances up every now and then to either find Oliver's gaze fixed on her or doing a quick scan of the club. He's done that every time they've interacted and again it intrigues her. Felicity is just about to question him when he speaks up.

"How did you get involved in all of this?"

Although a fairly commonplace question, his inquiry causes Felicity to tense up, fingers pausing over the keyboard. This is a difficult subject for her. It's not typically something her clients ask, so for the most part she can easily avoid talking about it. Even for those who do ask she evades it. With Oliver, however, she doesn't want to do that. She trusts him, oddly enough, and wants him to trust her, too.

"Computers were my dad's thing. My mom can hardly even send a text message properly. One time, she failed to tell me she was coming to visit because she forgot to press 'send'. Imagine my shock and extreme mortification when the door to my dorm room flew open right as Cooper and I were rounding third base. Not that my mom cared, actually I'm pretty sure she gave him a high-five."

A clearing of a throat, Oliver's throat, disrupts her ramble. Heat floods her cheeks as she gets back on track.

"Sorry, that was TMI and completely off topic. Like I said, computers were my dad's thing. He was always messing with some piece of technology out in our garage, looking like a mad scientist with all his experiments. When I was old enough, I started sitting in there with him and watching. I thought it was the coolest thing ever, seeing him build all these incredible things from scratch. Then I realized he wasn't a mad scientist at all. He was a magician, and I wanted to learn all the secrets to his magic tricks. So I did."

Tears pool in her eyes, and Felicity quickly reaches up to wipe at them with the back of her hand, ignoring Oliver's concerned gaze as she continues.

"He died of cancer when I was eight, one week after I built my first computer all by myself. After that it was just me and my mom, doing what we could to get by."

She looks up from the keyboard she didn't realize she was staring at, expecting to find pity in Oliver's eyes. Instead, however, she finds understanding, a kind of remembered sadness that only comes from those who have shared a similar experience.

"Felicity… I'm sorry you had to go through that, especially when you were so young. Losing a parent is never easy, regardless of age. But eight..."

This time when their hands touch, it's Oliver who initiates the contact, and he doesn't let go. He places one large hand on top of her overlapping ones where they lay on the table, fingers wrapping in a gentle hold. Felicity draws in a quick breath at the heat from his touch, blood rushing through her just a little bit faster than normal. Then he squeezes her hand in a brief gesture of comfort before withdrawing it almost reluctantly. The exchange lasts for only a handful of seconds, but in those seconds it feels like they are suspended in time.

"I lost my father a couple years ago. He was on his way to China for business when his yacht got caught in a storm. There were no survivors. That kind of loss stays with you, changes you."

It's surprising that Oliver is telling her this. She gets the feeling that he isn't one to divulge personal information to people he barely knows, considering he never even gave her his last name. But then again neither did she.

"Yeah, it does."

The computer dings with an alert, quickly drawing Felicity's focus. Multiple windows begin to pull up on her screen, a sea of blue and white print.

"Are these the blueprints you're looking for?"

She turns the laptop around, careful of the wires still connecting it to the other computer, and shows it to Oliver. He studies them quietly, the corners of his mouth twitching upward into a delighted smirk.

"These are _exactly_ the blueprints I'm looking for."

Felicity quickly begins to copy the files onto a USB drive as Oliver reaches into his pocket and pulls out a thick manilla envelope. She stares at the parcel, guilt settling in as she recalls the last time he paid her.

"I can't accept that."

He tilts his head, eyes squinting in confusion at her statement.

"Why not?"

"You paid me almost triple what I would have asked for last time. I would feel bad swindling you again."

A short laugh comes from Oliver as he shakes his head in amusement, sliding the envelope across the table as he responds.

"Trust me, this is pocket change."

Felicity eyes the package incredulously, estimating by size alone that the bills inside add up to just as much as, if not more than last time.

"Those must be some pretty deep pockets."

Oliver merely shrugs in reply.

"They keep my hands warm."

Did he just… _joke _with her? This might be the apocalypse.

She's just about to call him out on breaking his broody facade when a tall, gangly figure appears at the side of the booth. He's wearing a deep purple flannel and wide rimmed glasses, and Felicity quickly recognizes him from her Advanced Coding seminar. They worked on a group project together a few weeks ago.

"Hey, Smoak."

"Hi, Curtis. What's up?"

She's surprised he approached her with Oliver sitting across the table. Curtis for the most part keeps to himself, but once she set her mind to getting to know him during their project Felicity learned just how funny and genuine a guy he is. It just took a little effort to break the ice.

"That algorithm I've been working on has some weak links. I could use a second pair of eyes, if you have a sec."

His eyes slide to where Oliver is sitting across the table for less than a second, before they dart back to Felicity. She smiles warmly at him in reply.

"Sure, let me just finish this up real quick and I'll come take a look."

Curtis gives her a smile of his own at that.

"Thanks. You're the best."

"And don't you forget it."

With an awkward half-wave that prompts Felicity to laugh just a little, her fellow hacker makes his exit. Shaking her head good naturedly, she returns her attention to Oliver, who has a curious look on his face.

"Sorry about that interruption."

"Smoke?"

His reply confuses her, causing Felicity's eyebrows to pinch together as she questions him.

"Huh?"

"That kid called you 'smoke' when he walked up."

"Oh! Yeah, that's my last name. S-m-o-a-k. I guess I never did tell you that. I tend to leave out last names for these jobs as a security measure. Which is a moot point now. Anyway, this is all done and ready to go."

Felicity slides the flash drive across the table to Oliver. He snatches it off the smooth surface and shoves it in the pocket of his jeans. She fidgets in her seat when he returns his contemplative gaze to her person, studying her as he considers the piece of personal information she just gave away. Maybe clarifying for Oliver wasn't such a good idea. She should have come up with some sort of fake story. Like her hair started burning when she was straightening it or something and now her friends call her 'Smoke'. That happens to people sometimes, right?

"Oliver Queen. My full name."

Oh. That… wasn't at all what she was expecting him to say.

She studies him for a moment, assessing the weight of his words.

"Well, Oliver Queen, I hope to do business again with you in the future."

"Me too, Felicity Smoak."


End file.
